Who Gets To Marry Max?. Neesa Hart

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      “You run a temp agency.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Waitstaff and caterers,” he clarified, still holding her captive with his gaze. “As Philip explained it to me, you started the business after your divorce.”

      She cringed. Uncle Philip, it seemed, was certainly quite liberal with the details of her private life. She wasn’t prepared for the idea that Max Loden had an intimate view of her failures. “That’s true.”

      “And you supply extra personnel for large events and household needs.”

      “And parties like this one.”

      “I see.” He continued to stare at her.

      “Was there something else you wanted, Mr. Loden?”

      “Max.” His voice was nearly a whisper. He seemed to be studying her. Without warning, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a door at one end of the kitchen.

      She gave him an anxious glance. “Is something wrong?”

      Max looped his fingers under her elbow as he hurried her toward the pantry. “Maybe.”

      Sidney decided not to resist. If she did, he’d probably make a scene. Max loved scenes. It was one of his quirks. “Chip,” she called out to one of her assistants, “Can you take those lobster crepes out when the buzzer rings?”

      “Sure.” He lifted his eyebrows.

      Sidney ignored him. Max steered her into the relative quiet of the pantry. The door swung soundlessly shut behind them. “Why are you here, Sidney?” His voice had dropped to a low rumble.

      The only light in the cramped space came from the slight space around the door. With a sharp tug on the string, she switched on the overhead light. A mistake, that, she mused. The single light bulb made his expression more fierce. Gathering her calm, she met his gaze. “Uncle Philip—”

      Max cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I know. Philip’s sick. He asked you to stand in. You haven’t answered my question, though. I want to know why you agreed.”

      “I’d do anything for him. He was very worried that he—”

      “Couldn’t be here.” Max moved a step closer. “You told me. But Philip told me that you almost never supervise parties yourself. You leave that to your assistant.” His eyebrows drew closer together. “Kelly—” She could almost see the gears turning in his brain.

      “Lars,” Sidney supplied.

      Max’s nod was short. “That’s right. You run the business and assist your clients with event planning, but she handles the events on site. Isn’t that right?”

      “Uh—”

      He nodded. “It’s right. So I want to know why you made an exception in my case.”

      “Well, I—”

      “Why did you decide that this particular event needed your personal touch?”

      Gritting her teeth in frustration, she resisted the urge to tell him it was rude to interrupt. “I knew uncle Philip was particularly worried about not being here, and that he’d rest easier if he knew I was.”

      He frowned. “Is that what he told you?”

      “Not in so many words, but he was very agitated about missing this event.”

      Max watched her through a narrow-lidded gaze. “Is that the only reason?”

      She swallowed. “What other reasons would there be?”

      He raised one hand to rest it on her shoulder. The slight pressure of his fingers eased her closer to him. “I don’t know, Sidney. You tell me.”

      Her breathing turned shallow. He couldn’t possibly know the effect he was having on her—the effect he always had on her. By design, she saw him rarely. Most of what she knew about Max, she knew from her uncle. She stayed out of his way whenever possible simply because he had this ability to melt her bones. “Max, I—”

      His fingers tightened. “Damn it,” he whispered.

      “What’s the matter with you?”

      “Damn it,” he said again.

      “Max—?”

      His eyes drifted momentarily shut. When they opened again, she saw the resolve in them. “I want you to stay here this weekend.”

      Sidney blinked. Oh, Lord. Not that. “Excuse me?”

      “You heard me. I want you to stay here.”

      Vintage Max, she mused. No explanations. No commonsense argument. Direct, and straight to the point. What Max wanted, he was used to getting. She’d been afraid of this when she’d spoken to her uncle. Max had a lot riding on this weekend. He’d want to make sure someone was covering for Philip. He couldn’t know that three uninterrupted days with him would shrink her into a bowl of nerves. “I don’t think—”

      “There are twenty bedrooms in this place, not including the guest quarters where Philip usually stays when we’re out here. You could have the apartment to yourself.”

      “Really, I—”

      “Your staff is going to stay, aren’t they?”

      She reached for her patience. “Not all of them. Only the few that I’ll need for early morning. You have an ample household staff to cover whatever happens during the night. You won’t need any extra help until your guests start moving around tomorrow.”

      “I want you to stay.”

      She stifled a groan. “I know you—”

      He leaned closer to her and said, with a soft insistence that curled her toes, “I’m serious.”

      She couldn’t decide what he meant by that. “I can see that.”

      “Philip would stay.”

      “It’s Phillip’s job to stay.”

      “He won’t like it if you leave.”

      She recognized the lightning-fast change in strategy. He wasn’t getting his way by bullying her, so he’d switched to guilt as a maneuvering tactic. “He doesn’t like being sick, either, but he is. I had planned to stay with him tonight.”

      Max eased his hand down her arm to cup her elbow. There was something oddly intimate about the slight heat of his fingers seeping through her jacket. “I appreciate your concern about Philip. I’ll send someone over to take care of him.”

      Sidney felt herself losing ground. “I really feel I should check on him myself.”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ